Moments
by Kyra Rivers
Summary: It was hard, when the mood took it upon itself to fester in Edward's thoughts during uninvited times, to remember that things were different now. [Elricest]


**Title**: Moments  
**Series**: Fullmetal Alchemist  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairings**: Elricest  
**Written for**: Maypirate, on LiveJournal

* * *

Sometimes life was about fear and pain, all twining together like nothing more than a knotted bit of yarn. The dark side, that which could rip and tear at the soul, reeling up and washing away any hope of tomorrow. Those moments usually came in short bursts: when running terrified away from a man wielding a blunt butcher's knife -- when stepping into an alley to see a grotesque splatter of blood on the wall -- when hearing high-pitched shrieks and seeing sinuous black cords ripping apart a tiny body piece by bloody piece...

Edward knew how fear and pain worked. They came along with guilt and loneliness, darting in before the door closed and curling up next to him on the sofa. In a sense, he was good friends with all of them, if the tenuous relationship they all held could be considered friendship. It was really more a partnership; an _exchange_, if you would, for that which he had given up to get that one last grasp at happiness. Mama wasn't made right, so perhaps the Gate foisted more upon his stricken body so the loss of Alphonse would even out.

It was hard, when the mood took it upon itself to fester in Edward's thoughts during uninvited times, to remember that things were different now.

"Y'know," Alphonse said, pausing and tapping the wooden spoon on the side of a pot. Droplets of dark brown sauce dripped off into the stew below. "I think I added too much salt. Tastes a little weird."

And there was Alphonse, standing in a pair of loose-fitting jeans and half-turned to look at his older brother. It was Alphonse as he should have always been but now _was_, and Edward often let himself drift while he was staring at the person he had somehow brought back. It might have been pride, but more often it was simply the inability to look away; Alphonse was a strange sort of beauty, the kind that engaged Edward's interest with a mere look and made his breath catch when his shirt rose a bit to show a sliver of white skin, as it was doing just then.

"I'm sure it's fine," Edward replied, distracted from his darker thoughts abruptly.

He so rarely had those moments when he was with Alphonse; even before, when Alphonse was little more than an animated suit of armor masquerading as a little boy, something about having that _presence_ was enough to keep Edward from falling. Maybe because Alphonse was so down-to-earth, as he had been since they were children, and knew how to maneuver around Edward's defenses with fearsome ease.

Whatever it was, it didn't always work, but Alphonse was keen at picking out moments when Edward was slipping. It was probably some kind of radar gifted to little brothers who reside as suits of armor for the majority of their teenage years. Maybe it was another trade-off.

"No," Alphonse protested, and Edward could recognize how Alphonse's right eyebrow twitched down a moment, suspiciously, before the expression faded and Alphonse was holding a stew-dipped spoon in front of his mouth. "Here, you try it, if you think I'm exaggerating so bad."

He did. A touch salty, maybe, but not enough to ruin it. He told Alphonse that.

"Well, fine, then," Alphonse said, shrugging. He kept talking, chattering casually about military life and how Colonel Hawkeye was a tough boss to work for, adding in enough personal tidbits and "Don't you think so, Brother?" questions that Edward was forced to respond, latching onto the conversation with a childhood familiarity.

It reminded him of being six years old, sick with some kind of painful flu that attacked his throat and made him cough horribly. He woke up in the late afternoon to Alphonse reading slowly from a giant textbook that dwarfed him in the rocking chair. It was hard to pay attention, but Alphonse's voice was light and soothing, and made him feel better than all of the doctor's medicines combined.

(Two days later, Alphonse caught the same flu, and they curled up together in their illness, sleeping fitfully with limbs intertwined, sweat-slicked and shivering whenever the covers were pulled away. Sometimes when Edward was feeling better, he would whisper stories to Alphonse to try and pay him back, but he always wound up falling asleep against his younger brother's warm chest.)

"--and then," Alphonse was saying, stirring at the stew idly, "I gave all of the aliens some registration papers and W-Z3 forms, because you know how Colonel Hawkeye gets when the proper paperwork isn't filled out."

"I know what you mean," Edward replied, and then realized what had just been said. "Wait, what?"

Alphonse rolled his eyes, setting the spoon down on the counter and giving Edward a skeptical stare. Looking more amused than annoyed, Alphonse said, "You're out of it today, Brother."

Edward shrugged, drumming his fingers on the table absent-mindedly. He switched hands when he realized that the automail wasn't much diminished by his gloves.

Alphonse pulled up a chair beside Edward's own, sitting on it backwards and leaning his arms on the backing. A searching look wasn't necessary; instead, Alphonse's eyes remained toward the ground until he spoke again.

"I went to her grave today."

A long silence.

"Yeah," Edward finally replied. "Me, too."

"And I realized something."

Edward stopped his scanning around the room to look at his younger brother, who was staring at him with a fond expression. "What?"

Alphonse smiled, a quick, jerk of a grin. "I think that she'd be happy for us, Brother. And we're here, aren't we?" The smile fluttered but remained, and Alphonse added, "All I've ever really wanted was to stay together, and we've done that."

"Heh," Edward agreed, ducking his head and grinning. "You're probably right."

"I'm always right," Alphonse replied quickly, smirking and effectively breaking the heavy mood.

Edward snorted.

"I _am_!" Alphonse protested, resisting the urge to laugh at himself and instead trying to look elite and condescending. He failed miserably and Edward snickered at the attempt.

"Your stew is too salty," ribbed Edward, reaching a hand out and mussing Alphonse's hair before the taller boy could duck away.

"Oh, you're a jerk!" Alphonse said in response, leaping off his chair and grabbing Edward's arm as it retreated; Edward jerked forward and Alphonse took the advantage to knock his brother to the ground, pinning him easily and straddling his stomach. Alphonse frowned. "You didn't even _try_ there, Brother."

"The stew smells really good," Edward protested, shoving with no vigor at Alphonse's knees. "I can't fight on an empty stomach."

"Bah," Alphonse said, getting up and swatting Edward lightly on the head, making a face. "You're no fun."

Immediately after he scrambled free, Edward jumped to his feet and lunged at his younger brother, grabbing his wrists and twisting them together. He pushed Alphonse against the wall and pinned his wrists above his head, pressing along Alphonse's lean frame.

Alphonse stared at him, scowling petulantly and trying to ignore the blush that spread faintly across his cheeks. "That's cheating," he accused.

"That," Edward began, leaning in to brush cheeks with Alphonse and whispering, "is called using my opponent to my advantage." He pressed a gentle kiss to Alphonse's jaw, right near his ear.

Alphonse shivered from the contact, but made no effort to escape Edward's hold; instead, Edward heard his younger brother laughing and flinching away from the kiss, protesting, "That _tickles_, Brother!"

Immediately, Edward pulled back and kissed Alphonse's mouth instead, silencing the light laughter. He slowly released Alphonse's hands, choosing instead to run the hand through short blond hair. Alphonse let his arms fall to wrap around his brother tightly, leaning into the kiss hungrily; soon, their soft moans were all that could be heard other than the gentle bubbling of stew left to broil.

And Edward thought, somewhere in the part of his mind that wasn't overwhelmed by Alphonse's lips on his neck, that perhaps in the end, equivalent exchange had worked after all. Because if all his moments of pain were tempered by Alphonse holding him back from the dark, Edward thought it just might all be worth it.


End file.
